


To Keep

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Demon hunter Reader, Drugs, Kidnapping, Multi, Murder, Oni AU, Paralysis, Possessiveness, Threesome, Yandere, light gore, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10836996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: Demon-hunting was far from the worst job in the world. Dangerous, sure. But the vacations were unbeatable. Like now, you and your group are on a trek through the Himalayas, sent to take out a group of demons that have been kidnapping climbers. It wasn't all the pamphlets made it out to be.Oni Hanzo / Reader / Oni Genji, gender neutral Reader.1st Chapter is AMAB Reader, 2nd is AFAB Reader. Complete.





	1. Penis Vers.

**Author's Note:**

> I post more gross shit and have commission info here: overwatching-you-sleep.tumblr.com

As a dedicated hunter, there was no length you wouldn’t go to if it was to maintain peace for humanity. Even if it meant traveling to the ends of the Earth. Or, more specifically in this case, the tips of the Earth.

The trip to the Himalayas and the dangerous mountain climb up Cho Oyu was an offer, not a discovery. You and your crew were far from the world's leading supernatural hunters, but for the mayor's budget and the situation at hand, it was a more than perfect fit for you to journey up the mountain and dispatch of the demon scourge terrorizing the townsfolk, for the not so measly price of a cool 10 million, 2 million a share.

When the job offer arrived on your "in" pile, a packet of plane tickets fell on the "out" the same hour. You and your four teammates agreed that they'd each put half of their shares into the group for gear and supplies, and the other half was their paycheck. They’d even take some off time in Europe to enjoy their spending money.

The entire deal had been settled out on the plane, and you could barely sleep at the foot of the mountain that night. McCormick, Ellis, Free, and Rodriguez were all settling in for bed, but you enjoying your last night of warm bathwater. It felt like only you were anxious. This was a dangerous journey to take on an even more dangerous foe; you had every right to be.

In the relative silence of the hotel room, you could hear the quiet breathing of your squad, all already asleep, leaving you the only one awake. Knowing this, you had no issues striding out in the open with a towel, gathering your nightclothes together and looking out the window at the snowy outcrops of the village. The population was in the double digits, and each and every one of them was asleep.

The weather was calm tonight, only a light dusting of snow falling from the sky to add to the never-ending pile of powder on the ground. Through the tumbling flakes, you could see the dark windows of towns, the lifeless still that overtook everything. It was so statue-esque that you nearly jumped when a pile of snow finally over-encumbered itself and tumbled off a rooftop, the closest thing to a racket that you’d hear.

Feeling much more at ease with the day ahead (even knowing it wouldn't be nearly as easy) you slid your nightclothes over your head and dropped the towel to the floor beneath it, ready to hop into bed. The memory foam sagged beneath your weight and the cool mattress was enough to knock you out cold, never wanting to wake up for anything, much less a demon.

+++

The blinding glare of the snow against your goggles almost blurred the entire landscape into a field of white, no depth or length to the horizon. You brought your glove across your eye gear and treaded on through the snow, checking over your shoulder now and again to keep an eye on your team. They all followed behind you like ducklings in an orderly line, each rubbing their own goggles and adjusting their snow boots for the eighth time. They’d put you in front because you “knew the path.” You wondered how long it’d take them to catch on to the tiny flags marking the safest trails, but you weren’t about to squander your rare leadership.

"I think we're about to reach a flat area!” you called out, to a chorus of cheers.

The climb had been exhausting, and twice the suggestion to turn back had been made, but you just couldn't give up. Not when you'd dished out so much money for it and more importantly, gotten so close. Even now, you could tell it was on everyone's mind: how were they supposed to fight with frostbitten fingers and rigidly cold muscles?

You crested the peak of the ridge, where a large rocky plateau stretched from the mountain base. Through the thick haze of snow, you made out yellow squares of light, and approached the building with little regard for your team. Of all things, it was a homey cabin.

The building stood on the terrace with all the grace of a gingerbread house, ready to collapse inward at the pure weight of the snow rallying against its siding and roof. Lights from within cut through the whiteness of the world around, and you waited for the entire group to gather up and bunch around before you pointed it out to make a call.

“It’s officially supported,” Ellis observed, pointing out the Nepal flag sticking out of the snow a few feet besides the door. Murmurs broke out over the group, and you all looked at McCormick, your leader, to make the call. Beyond all her protective gear, it was impossible to read her face, but she eventually nodded and everybody turned to barrel their way up the rest of the hill and onto the property.

You were just arguing on the porch about whether you would look less scary without the masks on when the door swung open, a middle-aged woman with friendly laugh lines standing before everyone.

“Hello, hello, come in, hello!” she cheered out in accented English, pulling back and allowing the group to come in and shake the snow off them one-by-one. It took ten minutes to get everyone inside and out of their boots and coats, but eventually everyone got their things hung up. She led you through a tiny kitchen, into an equally tiny living room.

The group squished onto two separate couches, and the woman was just lowering herself into an armchair when a young man came up from what you could only assume was the basement door, covered in frost and snow. At the sight of him, she hopped back up immediately.

“Excuse me,” she said, waddling over to the man and turning proudly to face everyone. “My name is Yama. This is my boy, Tashi. He is better at English, excuse me.” Her smile was infectious, and you all raised your arms and waved her off as if it was rehearsal. You introduced yourselves with your standard alias’ in simple English and greeted her son, who nodded while he peeled his snow goggles off. He sat in the armchair instead, prompting Yama to excuse herself to the kitchen, and you caught the unmistakable scent of fresh coffee being ground.

“You’re climbers?” Tashi had pulled the scarf off his mouth, exposing his snow-burned skin and coarse facial hair beneath. Once he had his hood and goggles off, he stopped undressing, and you wondered just how these people could live in an area where -20 **°F**  was the usual and the hottest they could expect was the 60 **°F** in their house.

This weather was ideal for what you came here to hunt, demons. Due to the sheer volume of deaths on the mountains, climbing was forbidden for the time being; you had needed to get special permissions from the checkpoint at the bottom of the mountain. The last thing you expected at this altitude was humans, and that the checkpoints on the mountain were not just visited, but lived in, made you suddenly reconsider that factor.

“We’re on a job,” you butt in, cutting off whatever answer your teammates would prepare to give. Five pairs of eyes landed on you, but you only focused on Tashi. “Looking for something up here, reports of strange activity. We didn’t think anyone would be close enough to confirm, but…” you trailed off, glancing between your teammates and allowing them to bounce off you.

“Now that we know,” Rodriguez took over, looking back at Tashi. “We’d love to know if you’ve seen anything out of the ordinary, maybe we’ll know where to look.” Tashi, a mid-20s gentleman with stout muscles and a serious face, took all this in with skepticism. He leaned back, watching all of you lazily, and when he spoke, his accent made his voice near indecipherable.

“My father went off into the mountains two days ago, to bring home supplies from the village. But when I go outside,” he turned to face the window, “I still see his lantern.” You all followed his gaze, and sure enough, the sharp silhouette of a tiny oil lantern sitting atop of a crate stood out against the bleak whiteness, between a first aid kit a and hunting bow.

“This is unusual, but I say nothing of it to my mother,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen, where your conversation was probably beyond her grasp. “She is worrisome, I know, and there is no point to her worry if he returns in three days as usual. But if he does not…” he shook his head and shrugged, the lantern burned into the reflection of his eye. “That is bad.”

Stares met around the room, and you could tell everyone was thinking the same thing. Nobody wanted to breathe a word of demons to the man, so instead you changed the subject.

“You don’t get sent supplies?” you asked, gesturing to the flag outside the window, just barely in view. “Are you not sponsored by the government?” He looked at you then, seemed to really take you in, and stopped his gaze just short of uncomfortable to look outside.

“Oh, we are. We are only sent money, not food.” Tashi smiled then, seeming to forget the previous conversation. “We only do it because my grandfather already lived here. He said he may as well be paid to do so.” The laughter that came out was genuine but unsettled, and the mood remained tense until Yama brought the coffee pot and mugs into the room and began to pour everyone a fresh cup.

“Are you stay the night?” Yama questioned everyone while she poured, uncapping the sugar jar that sat on the table with her free hand. You all turned to McCormick, some a bit more shameless with their begging than others.

“If you have the room,” McCormick relented, and Yama looked to her son to provide a quick translation before she nodded.

“Yes! We have beds, Tashi will show.” She excused herself again, this time to make dinner, and you all settled into the couch for a cozy night in. At least you got some rest before fighting a haggle of monsters.

+++

The beds Yama was taking about, you were shocked to find, were in a different building entirely.

“We built this with the government money,” Tashi was explaining, holding open the door to the barracks-style house, where rows of beds lined the walls. “Climbers like to travel in groups.”

“Makes sense,” Free said, setting his stuff down by one of the beds and collapsing onto it. Most of the group felt the same. “Your mom cooks some really good food.”

“I’ll be sure to thank her for dinner when we wake up,” Ellis added. Tashi smiled and reminded everyone to sleep well before bidding you goodnight and closing the door, leaving everyone in the dark. It was hardly an issue, since everyone had passed out near immediately, exhausted from the climb. There was hardly pause to strip down to long johns and pajamas.

Again, only you struggled to sleep. You couldn’t tell what was weighing you down at first, but as you mulled over the rock in your stomach, you came to realize what was keeping you awake: guilt. You were the one that had made the executive choice to accept this job, thinking how easy it would be to kill two demons and not factoring in the subzero temperatures and steep uphill climb beforehand.

Overall, it was turning out to be a little more of a clusterfuck than you anticipated, and that scared you. You also disliked how you’d gotten the owners involved, how you’d lied about your names, but that was just standard in your line of business. They just seemed like nice people, too nice to be wrapped up in your mission. You were afraid, because if anyone died from this hunt, it would be on you. That realization hardly made you feel better, but discovering what was making you feel so restless had placated you enough to fall into a fitful slumber, nothing but monsters to haunt your dreams.

While you slept, the cold sunk through your skull and into your brain. You dreamed of an icy lake with no land in sight, only vicious waves frozen in mid-crash, creating spiral arches that you could reach up and touch with your hand. It was beautiful, but it was freezing, and there was nobody in sight.

Your dream ended a few hours later when, in a fit of shivers, you awoke to the sound of a raging blizzard outside. You could no longer hear the gas heater at the end of the cabin, explaining the sudden chill, but you were so exhausted you could barely muster up the willpower to get up and check on it. Your teammates were sleeping soundly around you, unbothered by what would probably kill them in their sleep if they didn’t wake up.

You pried your eyelids open, crusted together by frost and sleep, and met two blurry white orbs floating in the darkness. You couldn’t get the scream out of your throat fast enough, throwing your blanket off you and wiping the frozen moisture from your eyes so you could see. A panic arose in the cabin, and you opened your eyes to the mysterious being gone and your teammates all jumping out of bed and reaching for their weapons.

“What is it?” McCormick manages to yell above the cacophony of confusion, and you point at the still-swinging door, the wind blowing it open every time it attempts to fall shut. The loudness dies down, McCormick lowering her gun to stare at you.

“You woke us all up because of a fucking door?” she demanded, making you reel back.

“No, I meant whatever just _left_ through the door!” you insisted, trying to stare out into the snowstorm and seeing nothing in the gloom, not even the distant outline of the owner’s cabin. Everyone bunched up around the doorway, trying to huddle for warmth while they peered out into the whiteness, all manners of weapon wielded.

“You s-sure something’s out there?” Free asked you, trying to crowd in just over your left shoulder. You nudged him back and nodded.

“I saw it when I woke up. Something staring at me. I think it turned the heater off.” A chorus of understanding hums arose from your squad mates, and Free immediately parted from the group to go and restart it. The rest of you stood shock-still at the door, waiting for any sign of movement. Behind you, Free turned on the lights and began to tinker with the metal heater.

“Fuckin’ instructions are in mandarin or something,” he called out to the group, followed by a clank and a whirr. “Hang on, I think I got it.”

Behind you, something hit the ground hard, followed immediately by breaking glass. You all turned in succession, barely able to catch a glimpse of Free’s feet being dragged out of the window. He’d been taken out too quickly to even make a noise of surprise.

“Owen!” McCormick screamed, the group moving like a tight-knit amoeba over to the heater, where Free’s blood was splattered over the wooden floor and trailed up the wall out of the broken window. A trail of red snow led off into the distance, any hope of retrieving him to be buried underneath a fresh layer in minutes. He was probably already dead.

“Shit, what’s going on?” Rodriguez demanded, his trigger finger twitching on the side of his blessed pistol. “Do you think the owners are secret psychopaths like every other seemingly over-nice person in movies?”

“There’s a 20% chance it’s that,” you noted, “but I’d bet my money on demons.” You all turned again to the still-swinging door, silently willing one another to go and close it.

“Do you think Yama and Tashi are okay?” Ellis asked, inching slowly forward towards the front. Now you were arranged in a lotus, all four of you leaving no inch of the room unwatched as you moved back to back towards the door.

“I have no way to be sure,” McCormick said, sweat rolling down her brow and off onto the floor. It seemed like forever to move along the hallway-style room and get within arm’s reach of the door. Once you had it closed, everyone moved to grab their coats and primary weapons, keeping one eye on the window the whole time.

“Looks like you were right,” Rodriguez told you, but you couldn’t feel worse about it if you tried. Just what you had feared, a death on your conscious, and not even one that you could call fulfilling or truly worthy of respect. He’d been taken out and dragged off, with his last moments shivering in the cold, trying to fix a heater.

“We should stay on defense,” Ellis explained, attaching a crucifix to a cord and wrapping it around her wrist. “They already have the upper advantage, it would be suicide to try and chase them ou-“

Glass shattered and tinkled right above your head, an arrow piercing through the window and hitting the overhead light, where it blackened the room and scattered into a dozen smaller arrows. One hit Ellis smack-dab in the nose, turning the cartilage into a sticky mess of red pulp, and she slumped onto the wall with all the animation of a ragdoll. Another pierced Rodriguez’ arm and everyone still alive dove underneath the beds for cover.

“Jesus, how many are there?” McCormick screamed out, her eyes meetings yours from across the gap. The arrows stopped, and there was a three-count of silence before you all scrambled from beneath the beds.

“We gotta make a run for the cabin,” Rodriguez declared, daring McCormick to challenge him, which she didn’t.

“Let’s go.” At her command, you ripped the door open and filed out one by one, checking your immediate surroundings before huddling and jogging through the thick snow towards the cabin. All the lights were out, and you already feared the worst.

“There’s got to be a hospital at the foot of the mountain,” Rodriguez said, barely audible over the roar of the wind. “We need to find a phone, call in air support, because the next fastest way down is by avalanche.”

“I’m more worried about surviving this first!” you argued, your rifle shaking in your grip. You were terrified. The only reason you stopped yourself from crying was because you didn’t want to freeze your eyes shut. The gap between buildings was halfway crossed, and you all sped up.

“Well you’re not the one with a fucking arrow lodged in your arm!” Rodriguez snapped, and this bold statement was met with another arrow drilled through his cranium. Dead and fallen to the ground in a motionless heap, your third casualty. You pressed your back against McCormick and pressed forward, dry sobs erupting from your chest. Just a little further. Just a few more steps.

“Oh god,” McCormick was saying to herself, her hands reaching back for yours. “What’re we going to tell their parents?”

“Now’s not the fucking time,” you hissed at her, pushing her forward again. Her sobs were not quite as dry as yours, and you had to put every ounce of patience in your body towards this. “Come on, Alex. You’re the leader. You’ve got to finish this.”

“I can’t do this!” she cried out, impeding your precious progress. “Over half of my team died in five minutes, I can’t—“

Whatever was attacking you, it finally decided to come right out from the fog, pouncing on McCormick and leaving you to close the remaining distance. You heard her screams behind you, your heart ached to not turn back, but if you didn’t survive, then nobody would be alive to tell your stories, and you were the last hope for that.

At least, that would be the reason you told yourself to cope with the future survivors guilt, because in truth you had nearly wet your pants, and you were half thinking about hurtling yourself over the cliff edge to escape the monsters. You held your rifle close—you were too afraid to even think about killing anything with it—and bolted for your last hope.

You should have known the pattern by now. Should have known you would never make it.

You wrenched the door open and tried to enter, but something strong wrapped its arms around you, whipping you around like a sack and throwing you on your hands and knees into the snow. Your rifle swung off to the side, just out of your grip, and when you moved to grab it, a long, sharp string began to dig into your throat, choking the life out of you.

“No,” you pleaded out loud, your voice strained and weak. You could just see what was left of McCormick’s body lying in the edges of your peripheral vision, whatever thing that had killed her standing over the visceral mess and observing it in utter silence. You clawed at your neck, prying your fingers beneath the wire, only to have it press harder against you.

“This is the one,” a deep baritone spoke over you, just behind your head. You tried to turn, look at what was going to murder you, and could only see the edges of intricately carved wood. He was choking you to death with a bowstring. There was movement in front of you, and you turned to face—Yama?

“What.” It was barely a question and more a statement of pure disbelief, your eyes wide at the sight of the grinning old woman in front of you, blood dripping from her mouth and into the snow. Which meant it was Tashi holding you down. “It was a trick this whole time?”

“The best part is that it’s not over yet,” Yama said, her English near-perfect and an entirely different accent coming out of her mouth, one that didn’t fit her face at all. She made a symbol with her hands, and it was when her glamour began to slough off that you realized just how severely you’d been fooled.

When her true form was revealed, you were shocked to find that it wasn’t a she at all. At least, it didn’t look like it. Beneath the grinning Oni mask and full bodysuit, it’s form appeared to be slender and lean, and it had the shape of a man. Whatever was holding you down had taken off its glamour as well, and that one was no mistake—you could feel his bare chest pressed against your back as he forced you to look at his partner.

“Who are you?” you demanded, trying to lift your body to avoid the harsh cut of the bowstring. It hardly seemed like it mattered who they were, if they were to kill you. You knew this couldn’t be the case though. If they wanted you dead, you’d be dead, and they had said you were the one. Whatever their plans for you were, they were special, and you felt like this might only be the beginning.

“Who are we?” the demon in front of you asked, all laughter beneath the mask. “Who are you, ‘Thompson’?” You paled; they knew you gave them fake names. Of course they did, they were obviously more skilled in the art of deceit than your group was. You tightened your lips, but it seemed like they weren’t expecting you to answer anyway.

“My name is Hanzo,” the demon behind you spoke, still a disembodied voice lurking just over your shoulder, a looming but imminent threat. A hand came forward to gesture to the other demon, and it was a charcoal gray, but otherwise human. “This is my brother Genji.”

From what you could tell so far, with your extensive knowledge as the team’s cryptozoologist, these were both a very dangerous class of Oni. Their shapeshifting ability, survival in the cold, even their speed and strength spoke of unbelievable power. You wondered if jumping off the cliff would have even worked; they probably could have caught you and carried you back up.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Hanzo asked you, slowly guiding you up to your knees with the string still at your lightly bleeding neck. “You look so cold.” You heaved in fear, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your snow coat, but he was right. Your legs were in nothing but pajamas and socks, you had on only a coat for protection. That would get you killed in the subzero winds. You would have had time to dress more if they weren’t such efficient killers.

“Why that one again?” Genji asked Hanzo, staring at you curiously. Hanzo stood you up, holding you around your midsection and carrying you back in to the open door of the cabin. Genji followed and closed it, leaving the horror scene outside and returning some semblance of normalcy to your situation, something you desperately needed before your brain snapped in half.

“It was difficult, beneath all of those clothes, but now I’m certain.” You felt him press his face into your neck, hinting at what must have been a strong jawline and rigid face. He took a deep whiff of your natural scent, making you shiver. “I can smell it on this one.”

“Smell what?!” you asked incredulously, your voice cracking on the second syllable. They both laughed, clearly amused with your distress, and Hanzo’s face moved up, until his soft lips were caressing your ear, his every breath blowing over your eardrum with a satisfying chill.

“Humans and demons are mostly incompatible,” he explained gently, his voice obviously attempting to soothe you despite the dawning horror of his words. “Only humans with a certain gene from birth are able to… _bed_ with demons without dying immediately…”  
  
“No—“

“Since the venom in our fluids normally kills humans…”

“No—“

“And that resistant gene can be detected by scent…”

“NO—“

“My brother and I lost our last pet in a little ‘accident’ the other night…”

You couldn’t even classify it as a dignified struggle—you were flailing uncontrollably. Genji stepped back to avoid your swinging limbs, but Hanzo held tight, ignoring your jarring kicks to his shins and your wriggling body. Careful to avoid your vicious swings, he maneuvered his arms around you and tightened his grip until he had you in a vice. You still tried to kick, and you had resorted to trying to bite Hanzo’s fingers away when a gentle touch pressed against your jaw, fingertips tracing the lines of your chin.

“I’m going to give you something that will help,” Genji said, but his voice betrayed all of his true intentions. He moved his mask to the side to reveal his mouth, his skin the same deep gray as his brother and his teeth large, sharp, and intimidating. At least the blood from earlier was gone.

His touch was still gentle, coaxing, as he tilted your head to the side. You tried to push back against it, but his mellow touch quickly became a choking hand around your throat, and you got the picture quickly. You were too afraid to get anywhere near their limit, no matter how patient or short-tempered they were. The very threat that loomed in their every move was enough to press you into obedience.

“Hold still.” It was the most difficult thing to do when he bites into you, blood splattering out onto your neck and down his lips. It’s not a clean bite. You begin to feel a little light-headed, but you aren’t sure if it’s from blood loss or his venom. He pulls away quickly, and his gore-filled smile is grim.

“Oh, I forgot, that’s not how I give you the venom.” Asshole. He pries his mask off the rest of the way, allowing you to see his pure white eyes and the absolute _glee_ held within them. He leans forward, eyes locked wide onto yours, and you realize he wants to kiss you, he wants you to taste your own blood; and you can’t force him away.

He kisses you tenderly at first. Your mouth is closed tight, and this doesn’t seem to bother him at first, but his tongue eventually starts to prod, and you clench your eyes shut to shed a single tear as you let him in, his bloody tongue immediately diving in and down your throat. It tasted of iron and acid, shocking your muscles rigid. Your body reacted to the deep intrusion with violent twitches and moans, which he seemed to savor.

You peek, and he is still staring right through you. His grins lolls wide at your eye contact. You were so entranced in how Genji held you in his gaze that you didn’t noticed how Hanzo had gotten your pajama pants down until he was pulling your half-hard cock out of your long johns, forcing your hips forward with his own to make you fuck his hand. You were trapped, quickly losing muscle control and unable to resist him, resist either of them. It was a terrible situation. You knew firsthand what demons were capable of, what they would do to you if you couldn’t fight back.

“I don’t like how much you’re wearing,” Hanzo whispered, right into your ear, and Genji hummed his approval into your mouth. Quick hands and claws you could only feel tickling against your back turned your clothing to shreds. It was thrown off piece by piece, until you shivered in the lukewarm air of the cabin. Genji finally retracted his tongue from your mouth, and you slumped in his lap pathetically. Whatever he had in his saliva was potent; you could barely move.

“This one will be good,” Hanzo said, his hand once again wrapping around your cock. You merely accepted the touch, allowing him to tug you until you stood fully erect in his hand. You were sweating, freezing and burning up at the same time, dizzy from your still-dripping neck, wishing this was over. You felt a finger poking at your asshole, able to force its way past your muscles with no resistance and massage your insides. “I can feel it.”

Genji says nothing, but his hands come to rest on your cheeks, gently guiding your face to his crotch, where he frotted his cock against your cheek through his clothes. He tilted your head, forcing your mouth to wrap around his bulge where you tongued at it obediently. Hanzo was fucking you harder, adding another finger and forcing his tongue into your hole.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Hanzo asked, curling his middle finger up into your prostate. You moaned, and Genji grinded his dick harder into your face in response. He was suffocating you on his dick. You took a laborious breath through your nose, trying to breathe while he rutting into you without a care and took a moment to think.

“Quite the whore already,” Genji finally said, digging his thumb into his pants and pulling them down, allowing you a chance to breathe. His cock, ridged and tainted, sprung out in your face, hot skin rubbing on your cheek and insisting on entry in your mouth. You stuck your tongue out, allowing him to rub the head of his cock on your mouth and admire your defeated face.

“This is true.” Hanzo pulls his fingers out of you, allowing your hips to fall to the floor, but it’s not long before your forced upright to your knees. You blink, and both of them have their cocks out now, idly jerking themselves while they awaited your attention. You could barely think, let alone move, but your body seemed to do that for you. Without you realizing it, you had reached up and taken each of their cocks in your hands, as though your body was subconsciously responding to their whims. They looked at you, expectantly, and you hesitantly began to stroke them.

They were both textured and gigantic, Hanzo a bit larger than his brother, but there was no point in measuring at the point where they were both 50% sure to kill you either way. They jerked their hips eagerly to your hands, approving of your work, so you moved your lips forward to Genji first. You hardly wanted to, not when you felt blood still pooling in your collarbone and down our chest.

He was restrained, able to control himself when you began to swallow his cock and didn’t buck his hips as you expected. Between your legs, your cock twitched from inattention. Genji’s threaded his fingers through your hair and forced your head forward, your nose bristling in the light patch of hair peeking out from underneath his shirt. You grabbed his hip with your free hand, careful not to squeeze Hanzo when you tried to endure the intrusion.

“Ahh, fuck—“ Genji hissed, his fist slamming against the closest wall. “That’s it; the mouth is mine.” Hanzo looked at him, cynicism in his gaze, but said nothing, only grunting a low approval. For a while there was little else, only Genji praising your innocent eyes and skill while he fucked your throat, but Hanzo’s patience didn’t run forever. He slid his tunic from his body (which you had been too busy to admire, now that you could actually see it) and dropped it to the floor, leaving his hardened chest exposed.

After that, he slid his fingers beneath his hair ribbon and began to untie it’s knot, muttering something to his brother in another language. Your mouth was pulled away for a quick moment and you immediately tried to catch a breath, having to fight your muscles for even that. Hanzo brought the loose ribbon over your head, dropping it to drape around your shoulders. The second it landed on your skin, it seized like a noose around your neck and tightened, effectively both stopping the blood flow from your wound and collaring you. The extra fabric arranged itself into a little bow at your nape, and settled just tightly enough on your neck.

“And now,” Genji said, kneeling until you were at eye level. Now that your own blood dripped out of Genji’s lips, curling down his chin, the mask would have been a comfort in comparison. He kissed you softly, almost loving, but it gradually became more forceful, more involved, until his tongue was once again shoved down your throat, pulling on your hair in intense passion. He wouldn’t get off you, would only part for milliseconds to breath before he dove into you again.

“Enough.” You were grabbed and picked up by your arm, ripped from Genji’s embrace mid-kiss and stood on your own, wobbly feet. Genji stood next to you, wiping his mouth casually, but he was obviously pissed from the interruption.

“Hm. Well,” Genji waved his hand, dismissing whatever he was going to say, and instead changed gears to look at you. “You’re ours, now. In case that wasn’t clear.”

“You’re so exhausting, brother,” Hanzo lamented, pushing you forward through the doorway. Through the kitchen and into the living room, the fire place was still burning and you were again pushed to the floor in front of it, the carpet making for a much nicer surface than the wooden floor.

“I like to savor the better things in life, Hanzo,” Genji argued, circling around you and kneeling by your body to guide you onto your back. “Something you never learned to do.”

“Why bother?” Hanzo was positioning himself between your legs, his claws dragging down your torso and tugging playfully at your happy trail. “You’re going to break this one too, I’m sure.” You felt your heart sink into your stomach. Your fear must have reflected on your face, because Hanzo saw it and laughed cruelly.

“Hm. Depends.” Your head was tilted back, Genji’s cock once again bobbing invitingly in front of your mouth, awaiting your attentions. The angle was uncomfortable for your throat, but he found that he liked the way your decorated throat bulged around his dick. “So far…I’m impressed.”

“Agreed. Resilient, as well.” Again you feel Hanzo’s finger at your hole, and you let it in with a muffled sigh. His other hand finally gave attention to your neglected cock, thumb running along the vein underside and rubbing against your head with more than a firm touch. “Perhaps we might prevent another accident with this one?”

“To hell with you,” Genji snapped, obviously amused with the bickering. “I can’t stop myself. That’s the nature of our little pets; they’re delicate.” He forced his dick further down your throat, until you were choking and convulsing from the lack of breath, and he reveled in your suffering. “So fragile that they wouldn’t be worth keeping if they weren’t so fun.”

Hanzo said nothing, but he slid his fingers out of you and moved his cock there instead. It took a moment, from your spurs of frantic struggling, but when Genji finally pulled his cock out of your reddened face, allowing you to slow down and breathe, and Hanzo pushed his tip inside of you with a single forceful thrust. Your voice was weak, stunted like the rest of your muscles, and the scream you produced was pathetic.

“Now who’s breaking the toys?” Genji mocked, but his eyes were on you. You found that staring into his blank, unfeeling eyes was a comfort, in a sense.  There was some emotion on his face, unreadable but undoubtedly excited. Hanzo pushed himself deeper, grunting as he met your body’s natural resistance.

“This isn’t breaking,” Hanzo said, a half-smile on his face, “This is training.” Your entire body still felt like lead; you could only rock back on your heels when he bottomed out in your ass, arching his back to shove his cock as far as it would go. Your back arched in unison, fingers digging into the carpet for a futile attempt at grip. He began to rock your body back and forth with his thrusts, only an anchoring grasp on your hips keeping you from bouncing back and forth, and your grabbing became desperate.

“Oh? And how are you enjoying this training?” Genji asked you, staring right through your body. Your lips moved, but nothing more than labored breath came out. You were a backseat passenger in your own body. You couldn’t interact with the world around you; only feel it. After a few seconds of trying to get something, any word past your exhausted lips, Genji brought his fingers around your head and gently began to move your jaw.

“I love it,” he said in a freakily accurate rendition of your voice, forcing your head to nod. “I can’t wait to feel everything you have in store for me, Genji.” Hearing you say those words, as though watching your own videotaped confession, finally forced something in your body to react, your hand clenching up and smacking Genji’s away. It was still sluggish, but it still surprised him enough to make him jerk back, all movement in the room suspended while the shock wore off.

“…Oh?” Hanzo asked, giving an accusing look over at Genji. “Has it been 12 hours already?”

“Shut up, there’s a problem,” Genji snapped, looking down at you suspiciously. “That venom shouldn’t wear off for another…well, 12 hours.” His eyes were narrow, but he didn’t look truly mad; just confused. “I must have done something wrong.”

“You must have,” Hanzo gasped, raising his hand to his open mouth in mock surprise.  Genji sneered and grabbed your arms, pinning them to the floor beside you. He crushed his lips into yours again, ready to catch you in another breathless make out, but he was pushed off and away by Hanzo. “Let someone do it right this time.”

“Hm. ずるい.(Unfair)”Genji muttered, but he backed off and allowed Hanzo to kiss you. You were struck immediately by the differences between them; where Genji took every ounce of the kiss and turned it into an experience, Hanzo merely did what he intended, his forked tongue pressed down your throat and little more than that while his saliva mingled with yours. When your muscles slackened again in his grip, he began to move and fuck you again.

Once done, he pulled his mouth away, barely affected by the kiss, and you were once again overwhelmed by how helpless you were, physically and mentally. You were so heavily sedated that you could no longer even open your mouth. Your vision was spinning, nausea clouding among the million other emotions rattling through you.

 “Oh no,” was all you heard, and you couldn’t even tell from which brother, before your eyes rolled back and you passed out.

+++

It was much warmer when you woke up. The blankets you laid under were heavy down, pleasant against your bare skin and warming your still-paralyzed muscles. You were laying on your stomach, your right cheek pressed against a feathery body pillow. You could twitch your fingers and toes, but even opening your eyelids was difficult, and the light filtering through the window didn’t help. It was daytime. Were you safe?

“Ah.” A black-clad silhouette walked into your field of vision, and the question died off as soon as you thought it. You tried to tilt your head back, but your head wasn’t moving. Seeing this, he knelt until you could see him, and it was Genji, in his mask again. “You’re awake.”

“Mmm.” you hummed. At least whenever you gained control over your mouth, you’d have working vocal chords to speak with. He stared at you for a moment, perhaps waiting for any other reaction, and you gave him none. Eventually, he brought himself to sit on the floor next to the bed, ceramic red eyes staring into yours.

“We may have gone overboard, you won’t be able to move for some time,” Genji explained, then tilted his head. He almost sounded apologetic. “We won’t do that to you again, but you must cooperate.”

“Mm.” You wanted so badly to turn over and state without words that the conversation was over, but it’d be a miracle if you could lift a finger. He was silent, still staring at your face.

“We will be going back to our home soon, in Japan,” he tried, and you sighed. You had been so wrapped up in what was happening in the moment that you forgot to consider that this was the rest of your life. You could feel the ribbon around your neck, still tied so neatly and probably wouldn’t tear nor fall off as long as you lived. At this point, all you could do was resign to this.

“Mmhm.”

“You will have your own room.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Will you talk to me when you can move?”

It was a sudden question, his voice taking on a sincerer tone, and you stared at him blankly. You couldn’t read his face, could hardly even predict what was going on behind that mask, but you found yourself forcing your head to move, one quick nod up and down that was more spasm than agreement.

“Mhmm.”

“Good. I don’t even know your real name yet.”

He stood up then, once again out of your sight, and ran his fingers down your covered body as he made his way to the door. You heard the smile in his voice. “I can’t wait to find out.”


	2. Vag Vers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AFAB Reader:

As a dedicated hunter, there was no length you wouldn’t go to if it was to maintain peace for humanity. Even if it meant traveling to the ends of the Earth. Or, more specifically in this case, the tips of the Earth.

The trip to the Himalayas and the dangerous mountain climb up Cho Oyu was an offer, not a discovery. You and your crew were far from the world's leading supernatural hunters, but for the mayor's budget and the situation at hand, it was a more than perfect fit for you to journey up the mountain and dispatch of the demon scourge terrorizing the townsfolk, for the not so measly price of a cool 10 million, 2 million a share.

When the job offer arrived on your "in" pile, a packet of plane tickets fell on the "out" the same hour. You and your four teammates agreed that they'd each put half of their shares into the group for gear and supplies, and the other half was their paycheck. They’d even take some off time in Europe to enjoy their spending money.

The entire deal had been settled out on the plane, and you could barely sleep at the foot of the mountain that night. McCormick, Ellis, Free, and Rodriguez were all settling in for bed, but you enjoying your last night of warm bathwater. It felt like only you were anxious. This was a dangerous journey to take on an even more dangerous foe; you had every right to be.

In the relative silence of the hotel room, you could hear the quiet breathing of your squad, all already asleep, leaving you the only one awake. Knowing this, you had no issues striding out in the open with a towel, gathering your nightclothes together and looking out the window at the snowy outcrops of the village. The population was in the double digits, and each and every one of them was asleep.

The weather was calm tonight, only a light dusting of snow falling from the sky to add to the never-ending pile of powder on the ground. Through the tumbling flakes, you could see the dark windows of towns, the lifeless still that overtook everything. It was so statue-esque that you nearly jumped when a pile of snow finally over-encumbered itself and tumbled off a rooftop, the closest thing to a racket that you’d hear.

Feeling much more at ease with the day ahead (even knowing it wouldn't be nearly as easy) you slid your nightclothes over your head and dropped the towel to the floor beneath it, ready to hop into bed. The memory foam sagged beneath your weight and the cool mattress was enough to knock you out cold, never wanting to wake up for anything, much less a demon.

+++

The blinding glare of the snow against your goggles almost blurred the entire landscape into a field of white, no depth or length to the horizon. You brought your glove across your eye gear and treaded on through the snow, checking over your shoulder now and again to keep an eye on your team. They all followed behind you like ducklings in an orderly line, each rubbing their own goggles and adjusting their snow boots for the eighth time. They’d put you in front because you “knew the path.” You wondered how long it’d take them to catch on to the tiny flags marking the safest trails, but you weren’t about to squander your rare leadership.

"I think we're about to reach a flat area!” you called out, to a chorus of cheers.

The climb had been exhausting, and twice the suggestion to turn back had been made, but you just couldn't give up. Not when you'd dished out so much money for it and more importantly, gotten so close. Even now, you could tell it was on everyone's mind: how were they supposed to fight with frostbitten fingers and rigidly cold muscles?

You crested the peak of the ridge, where a large rocky plateau stretched from the mountain base. Through the thick haze of snow, you made out yellow squares of light, and approached the building with little regard for your team. Of all things, it was a homey cabin.

The building stood on the terrace with all the grace of a gingerbread house, ready to collapse inward at the pure weight of the snow rallying against its siding and roof. Lights from within cut through the whiteness of the world around, and you waited for the entire group to gather up and bunch around before you pointed it out to make a call.

“It’s officially supported,” Ellis observed, pointing out the Nepal flag sticking out of the snow a few feet besides the door. Murmurs broke out over the group, and you all looked at McCormick, your leader, to make the call. Beyond all her protective gear, it was impossible to read her face, but she eventually nodded and everybody turned to barrel their way up the rest of the hill and onto the property.

You were just arguing on the porch about whether you would look less scary without the masks on when the door swung open, a middle-aged woman with friendly laugh lines standing before everyone.

“Hello, hello, come in, hello!” she cheered out in accented English, pulling back and allowing the group to come in and shake the snow off them one-by-one. It took ten minutes to get everyone inside and out of their boots and coats, but eventually everyone got their things hung up. She led you through a tiny kitchen, into an equally tiny living room.

The group squished onto two separate couches, and the woman was just lowering herself into an armchair when a young man came up from what you could only assume was the basement door, covered in frost and snow. At the sight of him, she hopped back up immediately.

“Excuse me,” she said, waddling over to the man and turning proudly to face everyone. “My name is Yama. This is my boy, Tashi. He is better at English, excuse me.” Her smile was infectious, and you all raised your arms and waved her off as if it was rehearsal. You introduced yourselves with your standard alias’ in simple English and greeted her son, who nodded while he peeled his snow goggles off. He sat in the armchair instead, prompting Yama to excuse herself to the kitchen, and you caught the unmistakable scent of fresh coffee being ground.

“You’re climbers?” Tashi had pulled the scarf off his mouth, exposing his snow-burned skin and coarse facial hair beneath. Once he had his hood and goggles off, he stopped undressing, and you wondered just how these people could live in an area where -20 **°F**  was the usual and the hottest they could expect was the 60 **°F** in their house.

This weather was ideal for what you came here to hunt, demons. Due to the sheer volume of deaths on the mountains, climbing was forbidden for the time being; you had needed to get special permissions from the checkpoint at the bottom of the mountain. The last thing you expected at this altitude was humans, and that the checkpoints on the mountain were not just visited, but lived in, made you suddenly reconsider that factor.

“We’re on a job,” you butt in, cutting off whatever answer your teammates would prepare to give. Five pairs of eyes landed on you, but you only focused on Tashi. “Looking for something up here, reports of strange activity. We didn’t think anyone would be close enough to confirm, but…” you trailed off, glancing between your teammates and allowing them to bounce off you.

“Now that we know,” Rodriguez took over, looking back at Tashi. “We’d love to know if you’ve seen anything out of the ordinary, maybe we’ll know where to look.” Tashi, a mid-20s gentleman with stout muscles and a serious face, took all this in with skepticism. He leaned back, watching all of you lazily, and when he spoke, his accent made his voice near indecipherable.

“My father went off into the mountains two days ago, to bring home supplies from the village. But when I go outside,” he turned to face the window, “I still see his lantern.” You all followed his gaze, and sure enough, the sharp silhouette of a tiny oil lantern sitting atop of a crate stood out against the bleak whiteness, between a first aid kit a and hunting bow.

“This is unusual, but I say nothing of it to my mother,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen, where your conversation was probably beyond her grasp. “She is worrisome, I know, and there is no point to her worry if he returns in three days as usual. But if he does not…” he shook his head and shrugged, the lantern burned into the reflection of his eye. “That is bad.”

Stares met around the room, and you could tell everyone was thinking the same thing. Nobody wanted to breathe a word of demons to the man, so instead you changed the subject.

“You don’t get sent supplies?” you asked, gesturing to the flag outside the window, just barely in view. “Are you not sponsored by the government?” He looked at you then, seemed to really take you in, and stopped his gaze just short of uncomfortable to look outside.

“Oh, we are. We are only sent money, not food.” Tashi smiled then, seeming to forget the previous conversation. “We only do it because my grandfather already lived here. He said he may as well be paid to do so.” The laughter that came out was genuine but unsettled, and the mood remained tense until Yama brought the coffee pot and mugs into the room and began to pour everyone a fresh cup.

“Are you stay the night?” Yama questioned everyone while she poured, uncapping the sugar jar that sat on the table with her free hand. You all turned to McCormick, some a bit more shameless with their begging than others.

“If you have the room,” McCormick relented, and Yama looked to her son to provide a quick translation before she nodded.

“Yes! We have beds, Tashi will show.” She excused herself again, this time to make dinner, and you all settled into the couch for a cozy night in. At least you got some rest before fighting a haggle of monsters.

+++

The beds Yama was taking about, you were shocked to find, were in a different building entirely.

“We built this with the government money,” Tashi was explaining, holding open the door to the barracks-style house, where rows of beds lined the walls. “Climbers like to travel in groups.”

“Makes sense,” Free said, setting his stuff down by one of the beds and collapsing onto it. Most of the group felt the same. “Your mom cooks some really good food.”

“I’ll be sure to thank her for dinner when we wake up,” Ellis added. Tashi smiled and reminded everyone to sleep well before bidding you goodnight and closing the door, leaving everyone in the dark. It was hardly an issue, since everyone had passed out near immediately, exhausted from the climb. There was hardly pause to strip down to long johns and pajamas.

Again, only you struggled to sleep. You couldn’t tell what was weighing you down at first, but as you mulled over the rock in your stomach, you came to realize what was keeping you awake: guilt. You were the one that had made the executive choice to accept this job, thinking how easy it would be to kill two demons and not factoring in the subzero temperatures and steep uphill climb beforehand.

Overall, it was turning out to be a little more of a clusterfuck than you anticipated, and that scared you. You also disliked how you’d gotten the owners involved, how you’d lied about your names, but that was just standard in your line of business. They just seemed like nice people, too nice to be wrapped up in your mission. You were afraid, because if anyone died from this hunt, it would be on you. That realization hardly made you feel better, but discovering what was making you feel so restless had placated you enough to fall into a fitful slumber, nothing but monsters to haunt your dreams.

While you slept, the cold sunk through your skull and into your brain. You dreamed of an icy lake with no land in sight, only vicious waves frozen in mid-crash, creating spiral arches that you could reach up and touch with your hand. It was beautiful, but it was freezing, and there was nobody in sight.

Your dream ended a few hours later when, in a fit of shivers, you awoke to the sound of a raging blizzard outside. You could no longer hear the gas heater at the end of the cabin, explaining the sudden chill, but you were so exhausted you could barely muster up the willpower to get up and check on it. Your teammates were sleeping soundly around you, unbothered by what would probably kill them in their sleep if they didn’t wake up.

You pried your eyelids open, crusted together by frost and sleep, and met two blurry white orbs floating in the darkness. You couldn’t get the scream out of your throat fast enough, throwing your blanket off you and wiping the frozen moisture from your eyes so you could see. A panic arose in the cabin, and you opened your eyes to the mysterious being gone and your teammates all jumping out of bed and reaching for their weapons.

“What is it?” McCormick manages to yell above the cacophony of confusion, and you point at the still-swinging door, the wind blowing it open every time it attempts to fall shut. The loudness dies down, McCormick lowering her gun to stare at you.

“You woke us all up because of a fucking door?” she demanded, making you reel back.

“No, I meant whatever just  _left_  through the door!” you insisted, trying to stare out into the snowstorm and seeing nothing in the gloom, not even the distant outline of the owner’s cabin. Everyone bunched up around the doorway, trying to huddle for warmth while they peered out into the whiteness, all manners of weapon wielded.

“You s-sure something’s out there?” Free asked you, trying to crowd in just over your left shoulder. You nudged him back and nodded.

“I saw it when I woke up. Something staring at me. I think it turned the heater off.” A chorus of understanding hums arose from your squad mates, and Free immediately parted from the group to go and restart it. The rest of you stood shock-still at the door, waiting for any sign of movement. Behind you, Free turned on the lights and began to tinker with the metal heater.

“Fuckin’ instructions are in mandarin or something,” he called out to the group, followed by a clank and a whirr. “Hang on, I think I got it.”

Behind you, something hit the ground hard, followed immediately by breaking glass. You all turned in succession, barely able to catch a glimpse of Free’s feet being dragged out of the window. He’d been taken out too quickly to even make a noise of surprise.

“Owen!” McCormick screamed, the group moving like a tight-knit amoeba over to the heater, where Free’s blood was splattered over the wooden floor and trailed up the wall out of the broken window. A trail of red snow led off into the distance, any hope of retrieving him to be buried underneath a fresh layer in minutes. He was probably already dead.

“Shit, what’s going on?” Rodriguez demanded, his trigger finger twitching on the side of his blessed pistol. “Do you think the owners are secret psychopaths like every other seemingly over-nice person in movies?”

“There’s a 20% chance it’s that,” you noted, “but I’d bet my money on demons.” You all turned again to the still-swinging door, silently willing one another to go and close it.

“Do you think Yama and Tashi are okay?” Ellis asked, inching slowly forward towards the front. Now you were arranged in a lotus, all four of you leaving no inch of the room unwatched as you moved back to back towards the door.

“I have no way to be sure,” McCormick said, sweat rolling down her brow and off onto the floor. It seemed like forever to move along the hallway-style room and get within arm’s reach of the door. Once you had it closed, everyone moved to grab their coats and primary weapons, keeping one eye on the window the whole time.

“Looks like you were right,” Rodriguez told you, but you couldn’t feel worse about it if you tried. Just what you had feared, a death on your conscious, and not even one that you could call fulfilling or truly worthy of respect. He’d been taken out and dragged off, with his last moments shivering in the cold, trying to fix a heater.

“We should stay on defense,” Ellis explained, attaching a crucifix to a cord and wrapping it around her wrist. “They already have the upper advantage, it would be suicide to try and chase them ou-“

Glass shattered and tinkled right above your head, an arrow piercing through the window and hitting the overhead light, where it blackened the room and scattered into a dozen smaller arrows. One hit Ellis smack-dab in the nose, turning the cartilage into a sticky mess of red pulp, and she slumped onto the wall with all the animation of a ragdoll. Another pierced Rodriguez’ arm and everyone still alive dove underneath the beds for cover.

“Jesus, how many are there?” McCormick screamed out, her eyes meetings yours from across the gap. The arrows stopped, and there was a three-count of silence before you all scrambled from beneath the beds.

“We gotta make a run for the cabin,” Rodriguez declared, daring McCormick to challenge him, which she didn’t.

“Let’s go.” At her command, you ripped the door open and filed out one by one, checking your immediate surroundings before huddling and jogging through the thick snow towards the cabin. All the lights were out, and you already feared the worst.

“There’s got to be a hospital at the foot of the mountain,” Rodriguez said, barely audible over the roar of the wind. “We need to find a phone, call in air support, because the next fastest way down is by avalanche.”

“I’m more worried about surviving this first!” you argued, your rifle shaking in your grip. You were terrified. The only reason you stopped yourself from crying was because you didn’t want to freeze your eyes shut. The gap between buildings was halfway crossed, and you all sped up.

“Well you’re not the one with a fucking arrow lodged in your arm!” Rodriguez snapped, and this bold statement was met with another arrow drilled through his cranium. Dead and fallen to the ground in a motionless heap, your third casualty. You pressed your back against McCormick and pressed forward, dry sobs erupting from your chest. Just a little further. Just a few more steps.

“Oh god,” McCormick was saying to herself, her hands reaching back for yours. “What’re we going to tell their parents?”

“Now’s not the fucking time,” you hissed at her, pushing her forward again. Her sobs were not quite as dry as yours, and you had to put every ounce of patience in your body towards this. “Come on, Alex. You’re the leader. You’ve got to finish this.”

“I can’t do this!” she cried out, impeding your precious progress. “Over half of my team died in five minutes, I can’t—“

Whatever was attacking you, it finally decided to come right out from the fog, pouncing on McCormick and leaving you to close the remaining distance. You heard her screams behind you, your heart ached to not turn back, but if you didn’t survive, then nobody would be alive to tell your stories, and you were the last hope for that.

At least, that would be the reason you told yourself to cope with the future survivors guilt, because in truth you had nearly wet your pants, and you were half thinking about hurtling yourself over the cliff edge to escape the monsters. You held your rifle close—you were too afraid to even think about killing anything with it—and bolted for your last hope.

You should have known the pattern by now. Should have known you would never make it.

You wrenched the door open and tried to enter, but something strong wrapped its arms around you, whipping you around like a sack and throwing you on your hands and knees into the snow. Your rifle swung off to the side, just out of your grip, and when you moved to grab it, a long, sharp string began to dig into your throat, choking the life out of you.

“No,” you pleaded out loud, your voice strained and weak. You could just see what was left of McCormick’s body lying in the edges of your peripheral vision, whatever thing that had killed her standing over the visceral mess and observing it in utter silence. You clawed at your neck, prying your fingers beneath the wire, only to have it press harder against you.

“This is the one,” a deep baritone spoke over you, just behind your head. You tried to turn, look at what was going to murder you, and could only see the edges of intricately carved wood. He was choking you to death with a bowstring. There was movement in front of you, and you turned to face—Yama?

“What.” It was barely a question and more a statement of pure disbelief, your eyes wide at the sight of the grinning old woman in front of you, blood dripping from her mouth and into the snow. Which meant it was Tashi holding you down. “It was a trick this whole time?”

“The best part is that it’s not over yet,” Yama said, her English near-perfect and an entirely different accent coming out of her mouth, one that didn’t fit her face at all. She made a symbol with her hands, and it was when her glamour began to slough off that you realized just how severely you’d been fooled.

When her true form was revealed, you were shocked to find that it wasn’t a she at all. At least, it didn’t look like it. Beneath the grinning Oni mask and full bodysuit, it’s form appeared to be slender and lean, and it had the shape of a man. Whatever was holding you down had taken off its glamour as well, and that one was no mistake—you could feel his bare chest pressed against your back as he forced you to look at his partner.

“Who are you?” you demanded, trying to lift your body to avoid the harsh cut of the bowstring. It hardly seemed like it mattered who they were, if they were to kill you. You knew this couldn’t be the case though. If they wanted you dead, you’d be dead, and they had said you were the one. Whatever their plans for you were, they were special, and you felt like this might only be the beginning.

“Who are we?” the demon in front of you asked, all laughter beneath the mask. “Who are you, ‘Thompson’?” You paled; they knew you gave them fake names. Of course they did, they were obviously more skilled in the art of deceit than your group was. You tightened your lips, but it seemed like they weren’t expecting you to answer anyway.

“My name is Hanzo,” the demon behind you spoke, still a disembodied voice lurking just over your shoulder, a looming but imminent threat. A hand came forward to gesture to the other demon, and it was a charcoal gray, but otherwise human. “This is my brother Genji.”

From what you could tell so far, with your extensive knowledge as the team’s cryptozoologist, these were both a very dangerous class of Oni. Their shapeshifting ability, survival in the cold, even their speed and strength spoke of unbelievable power. You wondered if jumping off the cliff would have even worked; they probably could have caught you and carried you back up.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Hanzo asked you, slowly guiding you up to your knees with the string still at your lightly bleeding neck. “You look so cold.” You heaved in fear, your chest rising and falling rapidly beneath your snow coat, but he was right. Your legs were in nothing but pajamas and socks, you had on only a coat for protection. That would get you killed in the subzero winds. You would have had time to dress more if they weren’t such efficient killers.

“Why that one again?” Genji asked Hanzo, staring at you curiously. Hanzo stood you up, holding you around your midsection and carrying you back in to the open door of the cabin. Genji followed and closed it, leaving the horror scene outside and returning some semblance of normalcy to your situation, something you desperately needed before your brain snapped in half.

“It was difficult, beneath all of those clothes, but now I’m certain.” You felt him press his face into your neck, hinting at what must have been a strong jawline and rigid face. He took a deep whiff of your natural scent, making you shiver. “I can smell it on this one.”

“Smell what?!” you asked incredulously, your voice cracking on the second syllable. They both laughed, clearly amused with your distress, and Hanzo’s face moved up, until his soft lips were caressing your ear, his every breath blowing over your eardrum with a satisfying chill.

“Humans and demons are mostly incompatible,” he explained gently, his voice obviously attempting to soothe you despite the dawning horror of his words. “Only humans with a certain gene from birth are able to… _bed_  with demons without dying immediately…”  
  
“No—“

“Since the venom in our fluids normally kills humans…”

“No—“

“And that resistant gene can be detected by scent…”

“NO—“

“My brother and I lost our last pet in a little ‘accident’ the other night…”

You couldn’t even classify it as a dignified struggle—you were flailing uncontrollably. Genji stepped back to avoid your swinging limbs, but Hanzo held tight, ignoring your jarring kicks to his shins and your wriggling body. Careful to avoid your vicious swings, he maneuvered his arms around you and tightened his grip until he had you in a vice. You still tried to kick, and you had resorted to trying to bite Hanzo’s fingers away when a gentle touch pressed against your jaw, fingertips tracing the lines of your chin.

“I’m going to give you something that will help,” Genji said, but his voice betrayed all of his true intentions. He moved his mask to the side to reveal his mouth, his skin the same deep gray as his brother and his teeth large, sharp, and intimidating. At least the blood from earlier was gone.

His touch was still gentle, coaxing, as he tilted your head to the side. You tried to push back against it, but his mellow touch quickly became a choking hand around your throat, and you got the picture quickly. You were too afraid to get anywhere near their limit, no matter how patient or short-tempered they were. The very threat that loomed in their every move was enough to press you into obedience.

“Hold still.” It was the most difficult thing to do when he bites into you, blood splattering out onto your neck and down his lips. It’s not a clean bite. You begin to feel a little light-headed, but you aren’t sure if it’s from blood loss or his venom. He pulls away quickly, and his gore-filled smile is grim.

“Oh, I forgot, that’s not how I give you the venom.” Asshole. He pries his mask off the rest of the way, allowing you to see his pure white eyes and the absolute  _glee_  held within them. He leans forward, eyes locked wide onto yours, and you realize he wants to kiss you, he wants you to taste your own blood; and you can’t force him away.

He kisses you tenderly. Your mouth is closed tight, and this doesn’t seem to bother him at first, but his tongue eventually starts to prod, and you shed a single tear as you let him in. His bloody tongue immediately dived in and down your throat. It tastes of iron and acid, shocking your muscles rigid. He doesn’t break eye contact, staring through your very soul as he violates you, and you don’t know why, but you can’t look away.

 “I don’t like how much you’re wearing,” Hanzo whispered, right into your ear, and Genji hummed his approval into your mouth. Quick hands and claws you could only feel tickling against your back turned your clothing to shreds. It was thrown off piece by piece, until you shivered in the lukewarm air of the cabin. Genji finally retracted his tongue from your mouth, and you slumped in his lap pathetically. Whatever he had in his saliva was potent; you could barely move.

“This one will be good,” Hanzo said, his hands wrapped around your body and fondling your chest with eagerness. He took your nipples between his fingers and rolled them harshly, humping against your limp body in unrestrained need. “I can feel it.”

Genji says nothing, but his hands come to rest on your cheeks, gently guiding your face to his crotch, where he frotted his cock against your cheek through his clothes. He tilted your head, forcing your mouth to wrap around his bulge where you tongued at it obediently. The enthusiasm made him chuckle.

“Drooling for me.” His thumb rubbed along your lip, grinding harder against you. You closed your eyes.

 “How long do you think this one will take?” Hanzo asked, groping you fully and rolling your breasts in his palms You moaned, and Genji grinded his dick harder into your face in response. He was suffocating you on him. You took a laborious breath through your nose, trying to breathe while he rutting into you without a care and took a moment to think.

“Quite the whore already,” Genji finally said, digging his thumb into his pants and pulling them down, allowing you a chance to breathe. His cock, ridged and tainted, sprung out in your face, hot skin rubbing on your cheek and insisting on entry in your mouth. You stuck your tongue out, allowing him to rub the head of his cock on your mouth and admire your defeated face.

“This is true.” Hanzo let’s go of your chest, forcing you down to your knees and upright. You blink, and both of them have their cocks out now, idly jerking themselves while they awaited your attention. You could barely think, let alone move, but your body seemed to do that for you. Without you realizing it, you had reached up and taken each of them in your hands, as though your body was subconsciously responding to their whims. They looked at you, expectantly, and you hesitantly began to stroke them.

They were both textured and gigantic, Hanzo a bit larger than his brother, but there was no point in measuring at the point where they were both 50% sure to kill you either way. They jerked their hips eagerly to your hands, approving of your work, so you moved your lips forward to Genji first.

He was restrained, able to control himself when you began to swallow his cock and didn’t buck his hips as you expected. Between your legs, your pussy twitched from inattention. Genji’s threaded his fingers through your hair and forced your head forward, your nose bristling in the light patch of hair peeking out from underneath his shirt. You grabbed his hip with your free hand, careful not to squeeze Hanzo when you tried to endure the intrusion.

“Ahh, fuck—“ Genji hissed, his fist slamming against the closest wall. “That’s it; the mouth is mine.” Hanzo looked at him, cynicism in his gaze, but said nothing, only grunting a low approval. For a while there was little else, only Genji praising your innocent eyes and skill while he fucked your throat, but Hanzo’s patience didn’t run forever. He slid his tunic from his body (which you had been too busy to admire, now that you could actually see it) and dropped it to the floor, leaving his marbled chest exposed.

After that, he slid his fingers beneath his hair ribbon and began to untie it’s knot, muttering something to his brother in another language. Your mouth was pulled away for a quick moment and you immediately tried to catch a breath, having to fight your muscles for even that. Hanzo brought the loose ribbon over your head, dropping it to drape around your shoulders. The second it landed on your skin, it seized like a noose around your neck and tightened, effectively both stopping the blood flow from your wound and collaring you. The extra fabric arranged itself into a little bow at your nape, and settled just tightly enough on your neck.

“And now,” Genji said, kneeling until you were at eye level. Now that your own blood dripped out of Genji’s lips, curling down his chin, the mask would have been a comfort in comparison. He kissed you softly, almost loving, but it gradually became more forceful, more involved, until his tongue was once again shoved down your throat, pulling on your hair in intense passion. He wouldn’t get off of you, only part for milliseconds to breath before he dove into you again.

“Enough.” You were grabbed and picked up by your arm, ripped from Genji’s embrace mid-kiss and stood on your own, wobbly feet. Genji stood next to you, wiping his mouth casually, but he was obviously pissed from the interruption.

“Hm. Well,” Genji waved his hand, dismissing whatever he was going to say, and instead changed gears to look at you. “You’re ours, now. In case that wasn’t clear.”

“You’re so exhausting, brother,” Hanzo lamented, pushing you forward through the doorway. Through the kitchen and into the living room, the fire place was still burning and you were again pushed to the floor in front of it, the carpet making for a much nicer surface than the wooden floor.

“I like to savor the better things in life, Hanzo,” Genji argued, circling around you and kneeling by your body to guide you onto your knees. “Something you never learned to do.”

“Why bother?” Hanzo pushed himself around you and knelt in front of you, both of them cornering you with your back to the fireplace. “You’re going to break this one too, I’m sure.” You felt your heart sink into your stomach. Your fear must have reflected on your face, because Hanzo saw it and laughed cruelly.

“Hm. Depends.” Genji reached forward to roll your left nipple between his fingers, marveling at the feel of your skin and caressing your breast in his hand. “So far…I’m impressed.”

“Agreed. Resilient, as well.” Hanzo wastes no more time in feeling you up, bringing his tongue to lap over your nub in gentle licks and kisses. “Perhaps we might prevent another accident with this one?”

“To hell with you,” Genji snapped, obviously amused with the bickering. “I can’t stop myself. That’s the nature of our little pets; they’re delicate.” He brought his mouth forward right next to his brother, rolling your nipple between his sharp incisors before pulling away with a tiny kiss. “So fragile that they wouldn’t be worth keeping if they weren’t so fun.”

Hanzo merely hummed, wrapping his lips around your areola and sucking hard on your sensitive skin. Your body rolled back, but if you attempted to lean away, the flames licked at your back and hair, keeping you in place while they played with you. Hanzo’s hand finally found its way to your crotch, his finger curling up between your wet folds and fucking you slow.

“I don’t think this one will break,” Genji told him, but his eyes were on you. You found that staring into his blank, unfeeling eyes was a comfort, in a sense.  There was some emotion on his face, unreadable but blatantly excited. His mouth went back to your tit, sucking harshly on your nipple until he left solid purple bruises. Hanzo pushed another finger in, sighing as he met your body’s natural resistance.

“This isn’t even breaking,” Hanzo said, a half-smile on his face, “This is training.” Your entire body still felt like lead; your back arched as far as you could when he shoved his third finger into you, stretching you wide and preparing you to take his cock. Your fingers dug into the carpet for a futile attempt at grip. He began to vibrate his fingers furiously within you, only an anchoring grasp on your hips keeping you from bouncing back and forth, and your grabbing became desperate.

“Oh? And how are you enjoying this training?” Genji asked you, staring right through your body. Your lips moved, but nothing more than labored breath came out. You were a backseat passenger in your own body. You couldn’t interact with the world around you; only feel it. After a few seconds of trying to get something, any word past your exhausted lips, Genji brought his fingers around your head and gently began to move your jaw.

“I love it,” he said in a freakily accurate rendition of your voice, forcing your head to nod. “I can’t wait to feel everything you have in store for me, Genji.” Hearing you say those words, as though watching your own videotaped confession, finally forced something in your body to react, your hand clenching up and smacking Genji’s away. It was still sluggish, but it still surprised him enough to make him jerk back, all movement in the room suspended while the shock wore off.

“…Oh?” Hanzo asked, giving an accusing look over at Genji. “Has it been 12 hours already?”

“Shut up, there’s a problem,” Genji snapped, looking down at you suspiciously. “That venom shouldn’t wear off for another…well, 12 hours.” His eyes were narrow, but he didn’t look truly mad; just confused. “I must have done something wrong.”

“You must have,” Hanzo gasped, raising his hand to his open mouth in mock surprise.  Genji sneered and grabbed your arms, pinning them to the floor beside you. He crushed his lips into yours again, ready to catch you in another breathless make out, but he was pushed off and away by Hanzo. “Let someone do it right this time.”

“Hm. ずるい.(Unfair)”Genji muttered, but he backed off and allowed Hanzo to kiss you. You were struck immediately by the differences between then; where Genji took every ounce of the kiss and turned it into an experience, Hanzo merely did what he intended, his forked tongue pressed down your throat and little more than that while his saliva mingled with yours. When your muscles slackened again in his grip, he pulled you away from the fire so that he could finally slide his cock inside of you.

Once he had you sedated, he pulled his mouth away, barely affected by the kiss. You were once again overwhelmed by how helpless you were, physically and mentally. You were so heavily sedated that you could no longer even open your mouth. Your vision was spinning, nausea clouding among the million other emotions rattling through you.

 “Oh no,” was all you heard, and you couldn’t even tell from which brother, before your eyes rolled back and you passed out.

+++

It was much warmer when you woke up. The blankets you laid under were heavy down, pleasant against your bare skin and warming your still-paralyzed muscles. You were laying on your stomach, your right cheek pressed against a feathery body pillow. You could twitch your fingers and toes, but even opening your eyelids was difficult, and the light filtering through the window didn’t help. It was daytime. Were you safe?

“Ah.” A black-clad silhouette walked into your field of vision, and the question died off as soon as you thought it. You tried to tilt your head back, but your head wasn’t moving. Seeing this, he knelt until you could see him, and it was Genji, in his mask again. “You’re awake.”

“Mmm.” you hummed. At least whenever you gained control over your mouth, you’d have working vocal chords to speak with. He stared at you for a moment, perhaps waiting for any other reaction, and you gave him none. Eventually, he brought himself to sit on the floor next to the bed, ceramic red eyes staring into yours.

“We may have gone overboard, you won’t be able to move for some time,” Genji explained, then tilted his head. He almost sounded apologetic. “We won’t do that to you again, but you must cooperate.”

“Mm.” You wanted so badly to turn over and state without words that the conversation was over, but it’d be a miracle if you could lift a finger. You could tell from how abused your crotch felt that Hanzo had not stopped when you passed out. Genji was silent, still staring at your face.

“We will be going back to our home soon, in Japan,” he tried, and you sighed. You had been so wrapped up in what was happening in the moment that you forgot to consider that this was the rest of your life. You could feel the ribbon around your neck, still tied so neatly and probably wouldn’t tear nor fall off as long as you lived. At this point, all you could do was resign to this.

“Mmhm.”

“You will have your own room.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Will you talk to me when you can move?”

It was a sudden question, his voice taking on a sincerer tone, and you stared at him blankly. You couldn’t read his face, could hardly even predict what was going on behind that mask, but you found yourself forcing your head to move, one quick nod up and down that was little more than a spasm.

“Mhmm.”

“Good. I don’t even know your real name yet.”

He stood up then, once again out of your sight, and ran his fingers down your covered body as he made his way to the door. “I can’t wait to find out.”

 

 


End file.
